


Memories

by brittishmenorbust



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Memories, Sentimental, Sentimental Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:47:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittishmenorbust/pseuds/brittishmenorbust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John sits in his and Sherlock's bed reminiscing about what brought them there all those months ago.</p><p>*This is after Reichenbach and after Sherlock returns in a sort of AU without Mary*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

John sat up in bed as the morning sun peeked through the dark curtains of Sherlock's bedroom. Well, he guessed he should call it his bedroom now, as he slept every night beside the consulting detective. He glanced beside him, looking at the impression Sherlock had left in the sheets when he had left to go make some tea for them. John smiled to himself.

He remembered the first night it happened. He woke up in the middle of the night to hear muffled screams coming from Sherlock's room down the hall. They pierced through the walls with their intense agony. John had gotten up immediately to go and make sure he was alright. He remembered opening the door and seeing Sherlock, doused in a cold sweat, shirt clinging to his skin, curled up in the fetal position. He had his hands tugging hard at his curls as if he were trying to dispel something from his mind.

Sherlock had noticed John at the door but continued to cry silently and shake in his bed. It was as if he were still stuck in a dream state, paralyzed in fear. John knew what this was. He experienced the same effects from his PTSD, just as Sherlock was experiencing now from his ordeal with Moriarty. 

John remembered not saying a word, nor Sherlock, as he sat down on the bed and lightly stroked Sherlock's hair. Sherlock's hands relaxed and let go as John moved closer, leaning against the headboard, putting his feet calmly on the bed. Sherlock was still shaking but John made an effort to keep a relaxed demeanor in order to sooth him. Still, nothing was said as Sherlock adjusted himself to curl up next to John, allowing John to continue his methodical stroking of Sherlock's hair. John smiled to himself as Sherlock's shaking stopped and he fell back to sleep as if nothing had happened. John left the room and went back to his own bed that night.

Nothing was said about it the next day other than an unostentatious "thank you" when he first saw John that morning. John had simply nodded, not wanting to unsettle the comfortable companionship they had established since Sherlock's return.

John remembered night after night how he would hear the screams, put on his slippers and walk into Sherlock's room, groggy with sleep. He remembered how after a few nights Sherlock would immediately move over and make room for John so he could slide in and stroke Sherlock's hair and calm him. He remembered how after a few nights he didn't leave to go back to his room anymore. And how he would wake up in the morning with Sherlock's head on his chest, and arms around his waist. He remembered how natural it felt and how calm Sherlock would be while sleeping next to him.

In the mornings there would be no discussions. There would be only nods and thank yous and even those faded away with the understanding that it was a mutual need. 

John remembered how after a few weeks of slipping out to Sherlock's room in the middle of the night, he would just stay with Sherlock all night instead. It was logical, they had deduced, that John stay with Sherlock instead of having to get up in the night when he started screaming. John would stroke his hair as he fell asleep beside him. It was as if they'd always slept that way.

John remembered the smiles they'd exchange in the morning and the change that came over Sherlock as he finally slept peacefully every night in John's arms. He remembered the morning when Sherlock had gone to get up to make coffee and had leaned over and kissed John firmly on the lips and walked away. He remembered how this soon became routine for them: waking up, a quick kiss, and then off to breakfast. 

John would get up after Sherlock, put on his slippers and walk to the kitchen. He would place his hand on Sherlock's waist as if they had always done that and plant a kiss on his cheek as he reached for the sugar. 

He remembered how slowly and how naturally it progressed from there. He remembered the evenings in, curled up together. Sherlock would say something insensitive and John would hit him, telling him it was not good and how Sherlock would simply say, "Oh, sorry," and snuggle closer to him.

He remembered the first night they were truly intimate with each other and how Sherlock had told him he loved him and how John had responded. It was all a sort of pleasant dream in the way he remembered it. It felt like wading into water slowly and letting it fill up all around you. It felt like home now.

Sherlock entered the room with their morning tea. He leaned over and kissed John before handing him his cup and sliding back into bed next to him. John chuckled when Sherlock asked why he was smiling.

"No reason, just happy," was all John could manage at the moment.

"Obvious," smiled Sherlock in return.


End file.
